


Twenty-Four Hours

by LadyRazorsharp



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Chinese Food, F/M, Hidden Life, Inspired by a Photo, On the dark side, ambiguous character, hideaway, high class hooker, not always a gentleman, saving the world has its price, sin bin, under pressure, what lots of money buys you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-18 14:55:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15488409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyRazorsharp/pseuds/LadyRazorsharp
Summary: What do you do when the pressure to save the world gets too much? Tracys Behaving Badly (ish)





	Twenty-Four Hours

**_AN: Inspired by a photo of the room described in this story. Who is this? I have my suspicions, but I’ll let you decide._ **

 

**Twenty-Four Hours**

_ Even heroes have their secrets. _

 

The room was almost Spartan, unadorned except for the wooden bed covered in white sheets, which befit its rather utilitarian purpose. The girl sprawled atop the bed was asleep, her dark hair tousled prettily over her face, her satiny skin marked with pink-red depressions from his teeth after their last session. She lay on her side, her hip canted upwards, her arm thrown across her chest, hiding the fine breasts that he’d lavished with his tongue until she begged him to enter her.  

The agency had promised him the best of the best, and judging by the last twelve hours, their reputation was entirely deserved. She’d earned every bit of the fifty grand (plus a 5k tip and the permission to mention his name the next time she needed a little something at Tiffany’s). Of course, his name--and the money behind it--always got him moved to the top of the list. He wondered idly whose weekend he’d thrown a spanner in. Just as idly, he decided he didn’t give a fuck.

Better get on with it then. Truth to tell he only had one, maybe two more sessions in him left before he was finished with her. He could only be dark for so long before someone came looking for him, and wouldn’t that be inconvenient? Although, for all he knew, they all had their own places, their own dens of sin where they lost themselves, buried themselves like he did in the partners he brought here. Places where they too pounded out their frustration, their pain, their helplessness at having to tell someone they were going to be okay when they both knew it was a lie.

The girl was stirring, stretching her gorgeous body in the sunlit room, revealing the length of her lovely form. She caught him looking at her, and rearranged herself to lay propped on one elbow, her hand sliding down the ripe curve of her hip. “Well,” she murmured, as sleep fled from her eyes. “Someone got up on the right side of the bed this morning.”   

He didn’t answer, merely stalked to the bed and pressed himself against her, his mouth on hers. He shivered as he recalled the night before, when she’d explored him with her mouth until he exploded. That was the moment he’d decided she was worth every penny.

“Whoa, tiger,” she murmured when he came up for air. “Throttle back a little.”

He ignored her, pinning her to the bed with his hands on her wrists. An instant of fear flashed in her eyes, and it went straight to his groin. He leaned forward and bit at the spot, already bruised, beneath her jaw. His knee pressed her thighs apart, and he scooped her hips up, entering her with her left leg thrown over his right hip. His eyes rolled back in his head; for a high class hooker, she was still beautifully tight, and as she arched and bucked beneath him, he knew it wouldn’t be long.

He wondered if she would feel heavier when she left. He wondered if she would feel the burden of the pain and the pressure he laid on her as she wobbled out on her Louboutins, his money in her account and his bruises on her skin.

Her breath was coming in hitching gasps now, desire edged with just a little pain. Her nails clawed at his back, and the brief impulse to slap her flared, but he quelled it; no use being marked a scoundrel. He let her dig in, relishing her throaty voice as it echoed off the blank white walls. His own orgasm pulled at him, and he groaned with the feeling of letting the weight slip off of him and onto her.

_ “Fuck, _ ” he bellowed, adding his voice to hers. Here he could say it. Here no one was listening. Here, he wasn’t the good guy, the shining boyscout, the hero. Here was just sweat and sex and--finally--

He emptied himself into her, letting her take it all. When it was done, he lay curled around her, tears threatening. It was gone. It was gone and now he could start over...until the next time.

Her hand had strayed to the back of his head, stroking his hair. Had she picked up on his desperation, awakening an urge to comfort? He gathered her closer and let her continue, curious to see what she would do, and if he were honest with himself (and what was this place if not one of bald honesty) it felt...good.

“I don’t know what you’re running from,” she murmured. “I don’t know who you’re trying to forget, but it doesn’t matter.” She continued to stroke his hair. “They’re not here. You’re safe.”

At that, his tears did fall, but for some odd reason, he wasn’t ashamed. He didn’t resort to sobs, but he knew she could read his erratic breaths, could hear his heavy swallows. It was nice for a change, but all the more reason he couldn’t see her again. She’d seen too much.

By the time he knew anything again, the light was slanting in a different direction, painting the walls in gold. The girl, too, was painted in gold, sitting cross-legged at the head of the bed, her phone in her hand.  He watched her for a moment, seeing her eyes flick and her thumb scroll through the screens, a small smile tugging at her lips. He wondered if she had a family, a boyfriend, if she was trying to put herself through school, or if she was a bored housewife on a lark. Or, he mused, was she like him, trying to forget, trying to run and leave behind a burden that always caught up?

“Hey,” he ground out. They’d only exchanged the barest of conversation at the pickup last night, had ridden silently as he muscled the rental car through the streets, and after he’d shown her upstairs, well, there hadn’t been much need for words after that.

She turned to him, putting her phone aside. “Hi. You looked like you could use the sleep. You don’t get much chance to do that, do you?”

“No.” It was the truth; he really couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten a full eight hours of sleep.

“Out saving the world, I bet,” she quipped, all unaware of how very close she came to the truth. “You hungry? I know this really nice place down the street, we could order in.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to say “No,” and be rid of her, but again, gentlemanly breeding won out. “Sure.” He rolled over to where his pants lay crumpled on the floor and dug out his wallet, then fished out the black AMEX. “Use this.”

“Thanks.” She smiled and returned to her phone, tapping out an order. When she was done, she handed his card back, then gracefully stood and stretched. With an impish smile, she snatched up his dress shirt and put it on. “Can’t exactly answer the door in black sequins,” she said with a wink, “and I forgot my dressing gown.”

He let himself huff an amused chuckle at that, and got to his feet to use the facilities.  By the time he came back into the room, she had the food laid out on the bed, white boxes open and sending fragrant steam into the fading light.

The food was enjoyable, hot and sweet, sour and unctuous, and they ate in companionable silence. The beer was icy and bitter, and he relaxed a fraction as he felt himself go pleasantly numb.

When the light was nearly gone, they pushed aside the empty containers and the beer bottles and took their pleasure of each other one final time. Sweet and slow, she built him up with her touches and kisses until every part of him ached to fill her. She was aching too, he knew, and he delighted in rolling over and having her ride astride him, her head thrown back and her body straining as she sent her cries rebounding from the ceiling.

Then it was time for her to go. Time for him, too, to leave this place, to lock it up and leave the ghosts of pleasure and pain to inhabit the empty walls until he returned to banish them again.

“I had a great time,” she assured him, killer shoes in her hand as they idled before the door to her apartment building. “I’ll tell them to put you at the top of my list.”

To be at the top of an escort’s list meant that even if that person had another client, they could be disengaged and sent immediately, no questions asked. It was a rare privilege, and only came by mutual agreement between escort and client. He considered it and shrugged.

“If you want. Can’t make any promises.”

“I know.” She leaned forward and kissed him. “‘Bye.”

“See you.” She exited the car and was gone, and he took a moment to watch her walk away.

The comm was buzzing, and his eyes went to it immediately. Just like that, it was over, and the bubble burst to let his life back in again.

\--End--


End file.
